


Tenderly So

by attack_on_ya_mum



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, C137cest, Eventual Smut, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Protective Rick, Punishments, References to Depression, Slow Build, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-15 04:41:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12313947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/attack_on_ya_mum/pseuds/attack_on_ya_mum
Summary: Morty was never bothered by the alcohol, nor the swearing, it was Rick's constant absence that he couldn't bear.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I'm basically going to hell already so why not just dig a bit deeper, enjoy

“Don’t” he wheezed, his voice a coarse whisper but the pale senior barely even registered the request. Tears still streaming down the brunette’s chubby face, he felt hopeless, watching as his world was about to walk straight out of the front door and out of his life - all over again. It was always too much.

  
At just ten years old Morty had watched his grandpa leave so many times; he’d spend the endless days waiting for his return. Sometimes it would be weeks, months even before the skinny septuagenarian would stumble through the door again often inebriated, often angry. Before, Morty would swing his arms around his grandfather, cling to the withered old man despite the stench of sweat, alcohol and grime; but now, he’d struggle to manage a welcome back. His mother Beth had often tried to console him but watching the patriarchal family figure abscond, absolving himself of any responsibility and reinforcing the idea that nobody mattered to him, was fricking hard.  
It was selfish, he only paid him any attention when he needed something from him, and even then Morty wouldn’t even get a thank you but somehow no matter what his grandpa did, it would never hurt as much as when he would take off.

  
Rick looked up and met his grandson’s tearful gaze, “I’m not _leaving_ dipshit, grow a pair – you sound like your dad” he spat in disgust before saluting and firmly shutting the door behind him. A hand squeezed his shoulder, it was his father. “Ignore him Son, I have a pair – ask your mom!” Jerry remarked proudly without a hint of irony, his mother sighed, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes “Yeah you showed him Jerry” she leered, returning to the kitchen.

Angrily, Morty brushed away his tears before marching upstairs. Nobody cared that Rick was leaving and now he was going to have to spend all summer listening to his stupid parents bicker he thought bitterly.  
The pre-teen slumped down onto his bed, not bothering to get undressed he fell into the foetal position. Pressing his face into the cool surface of his pillow he let out a huge sob. He was heaving between each convulsive gasp as the tidal wave of desolation and depression engulfed him. Morty was almost suffocating in his own sadness. As he calmed slightly, the shaking stopped and he managed to pull the ever-so-heavy quilt over his limp frame.

 

 

As he slammed the door of his spaceship behind him his lab coat became trapped in the door and snagged, leaving an unsightly slash in the already filthy stained garment. “Fuccccccck!” he cursed furiously, banging his head on the steering wheel, which subsequently sounded the horn yielding a piercing resonance throughout the previously settled neighbourhood. Now he was going to have to get a new lab coat and the idea of travelling to the citadel filled him with dread. Taking a long swig on the harsh oaky liquor and wiping the saliva from his chin, Rick set off for the citadel. He switched the ship to autopilot and placed his feet on the dashboard whilst rummaging in his breast pocked for the crumpled photo of his grandson. And there he was. Little Morty, his little Morty. His bright fawn eyes staring at the camera dopily and his goofy lopsided grin.

 Rick remembered the day the photo was taken, it was Summer’s 6th birthday party. They’d ordered a clown and Morty was terrified. When he saw the pale figure with over dramatized features he had burst into fits of tears. Beth was too busy chaperoning the giddy kids to deal with her tearful toddler. So, Rick picked up the weeping boy despite his slobber and snot covered face, he let the kid wrap his chubby arms around his neck. His soft hair growing in untameable fluffy tufts, it tickled his chin. His tears leaving a soggy patch on Rick's shoulder and his lab coat balled in his tiny fists. Rick had never been one for comforting anyone but he whispered soothingly to his fragile grandson. Taking the boy in his arms he left to sit outside under the shade of the parsol on their garden porch. "Nnnnnmh clowns scary" he whimpered softly, the tears were still dribbling. Rick placed an awkward kiss into his grandsons hair "It's okay sweetie" gently wiping the boy's tears from his eyes. "It's okay".

Morty spent the day in his grandpa’s arms snuggled up on his lap. It was a first, Rick was barely drunk and the affection and innocence of his grandson panicked him. Attachments were unnecessary and irrational and would make Rick’s work even harder. Before the week was up he would have to leave and so he did; not returning until Morty had finished kindergarten.

It was a thankless and lonely duty, one that left him bitter at the universe. The only way to remedy it was to drown his troubles in alcohol. The things he had seen, done, experienced, the tragedy, death, pain, all the bad massively outweighed the good. He could stop. Yeah, he could try, but the cost was too high. The Galactic Federation was a corrupt organisation that repressed its citizens and tortured its ‘enemies’, he couldn’t just let it be. If he did, what would happen to his family? His friends? Birdperson and Squanchy? Their whole worlds would be torn apart. He’d be imprisoned, his technology sold off or destroyed. Beth, if she wasn’t killed during interrogations would eventually die from her alcoholism. It was too painful to think about. If he didn’t have these irrational attachments then he wouldn’t be partaking in this stupid internal debate, leaving was always the right thing to do.

 


	2. Crimson Smoulder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -PTW-
> 
> No actual mention of eating disorders or self harm but this chapter follows the aftermath of what happens when a person DOES suffer with them. Do not read this or anything if you feel at risk. Stay safe everybody much love x

“Morty, you want some more potatoes?” Beth suggested before scooping some more mash onto Morty’s practically untouched plate before he could answer. “God Morty, can you not just like forget about Grandpa Rick, go to a party like seriously I don’t even know - Summer was interrupted by Beth’s fist banging on the table “We’re not talking about him at the table, put your phone down too” she snarled through gritted teeth. Neither Jerry or Morty dared to look up, both waiting for Summer’s response. Summer opened her mouth to retort but closed it and swiftly got up from the table, screwing her napkin up and throwing it into her dinner and storming upstairs “WE ARE HAVING DINNER SUMMER!” Beth yelled after her before reaching for the wine. At that point Jerry also stretched out to grab the bottle of wine, his hand awkwardly hovering to snatch it from his wife’s grasp but she stared him down, until he eventually retracted his hand. She poured the remainder of the scarlet liquid into her glass and took another large gulp. Morty couldn’t bear to look up, to see the damage his grandfather caused.

“Um... Beth? Sweetie? Maybe we should go and get some ice-cream, huh? Morty do you wanna get some ice-cream?” Jerry suggested but the statement lacked any confidence, it sounded more like begging. Both parents turned their gaze to their ten-year-old son; the extra mash he had been given had fallen half of the plate, his utensils were clean and unused, he hadn’t touched his meal. “You gonna eat that champ?” Jerry asked encouragingly. Morty looked up slightly and shook his head dejectedly, still in silence. Sighing Jerry got up from his chair and knelt by Morty, “Hey you may have lost your grandpa but you’ve still got your old dad, and let’s just say, I know how to be a grand pa, eh?” Beth snorted disapprovingly, chugging the already depleting glass of wine. “I’m fine dad. I just w-w-ant to go urgh, um to go upstairs” he stuttered sighing miserably not daring to meet his dad’s gaze. Looking to Beth for reassurance, Jerry gave his wife a quizzical look but she shrugged, taking her glass and empty plate, sauntering into the kitchen. Morty took that as a yes and slid off his chair and awkwardly stepped around his father and headed towards the stairs. “Another time?” Jerry called out desperately but Morty didn’t answer.

Morty caught a glance at his reflection in the mirror, in a short few weeks he had become barely recognisable, heavy purple bags under his swollen puffy eyes, his skin pale and grey, his t-shirt practically hanging off his limp and skinny frame. Pulling the material up slightly, he could almost see his ribs under his papery thin torso. He was taken back slightly, he had hardly realised how little he had been eating. Stroking the jagged bones, he shivered in disgust, he looked a mess. Yet at the same time he felt too exhausted to be anything more than displeased with himself. He headed to the bathroom.

“Hey douche face” Summer called out knocking on the locked bathroom door. Morty couldn’t bring himself to respond and stared dully at the floor. “I need the bathroom!” she shrieked, banging her fist against the solid oak frame.

Morty’s head dropped, his chin practically resting on his chest as he slumped against the shower wall. His arms ablaze, scarlet clouding his vision, he felt dizzy and nauseous. The pain was toeing the line between unbearable and bliss. His eyes started to flutter shut as the delirium started to take hold. “MOOOOM!” the thumping continued as Summer began kicking at the door furiously. Even with his eyes closed, the teen was seeing blotching patches of white light and his head began to thump, it was like he could hear his heartbeat, it was resonating in his ears. Despite the violent nausea Morty began to giggle, he could hear his Mom’s voice singing. He could barely make out the words but he recognised the melody, a lullaby she sang to him as a child? Perhaps?

“MOM!” Summer shouted as she stomped downstairs impatiently. There was no answer “Are you kidding me?!” she huffed walking straight past her dad. “MOM?” she called out again. Jerry stood up from the couch attentively “Anything I can do sweetie?” he offered pathetically, Summer rolled her eyes, “Yeah Morty’s hogging the bathroom!” she spat. “I’ll go” he said puffing out his chest proudly. “Whatever, thanks” she muttered under her breath. Jerry smiled, delighted that Summer was talking to him, and half jogged up the stairs. Pressing an ear to the door he could hear soft mumbling, “Sweetie, you okay in there” he said knocking gently at the door. Summer glared daggers and kicked the door again “Hurry upppp!”. Still no response. “Summer go and get a pair of scissors from downstairs”, his daughter raised her eyebrows and continued to reply to her text.

Sighing Jerry walked back downstairs and into the kitchen, Beth was sprawled across the floor idly. An empty bottle of wine clasped in her hands. “Beth?” he whispered in an all too nervous whimper for his liking, nudging her with his foot. “Yeah? Yeah? What” she mumbled smacking a hand to her throbbing head, kneeling besides his practically comatose wife and lifting her under her arms to rest in his lap. The sound of Summer yelling out and kicking the door echoed through the house. “Come on Beth let’s get you up” he said softly. He couldn’t lift her so instead half dragged her and half carried her to the couch. Placing a pillow under her tangled blonde hair and wiping the crimson residue from her dribbling mouth, he returned to the kitchen to grab the scissors.

Trawling back upstairs, Summer was waiting impatiently, tapping her foot with increasing frustration. Slotting the edge of the scissors against the slit in the lock, Jerry fiddled hopelessly trying to get it to unlock. “Morty? It’s dad I’m coming in” he called out. However, the lock begged to differ, it was stiff, continuing to struggle with the scissors Jerry was getting nowhere. Rick would have been able to do this easy he thought to himself defeatedly. Trying to regain the little pride he had he pulled on the handle and turned the scissors in the opposite direction of the lock. Finally, the latch gave way and Summer stormed past him flinging the door open to be met with a horrifying sight.

Morty was slumped uncomfortably against the cold tiles of the shower wall surrounded in a pool of his own blood that was spouting from both arms. The thick crimson had seeped through his t-shirt and pants. His skin was a ghostly white and his lips were trembling as he mumbled quietly to himself. Jerry was frozen in his tracks, his eyes fixed on the thick gashes spurting blood in a continuous stream, his mouth wide open. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” Summer shrieked in disgust and dismay, rushing to her brother’s side, brushing the sweaty hair from his eyes. Shaking him by the shoulders to get his attention, the blood staining her white pants. Tears began forming at her eyes, her heart racing. “Morty?” she croaked, clearing her throat harshly she tried again “What’re you saying?”.

His eyes were locked shut but he could feel his sister’s breath on his face. Get out, get out, get out his brain screamed but he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t think, his mind was drawing blanks. All he knew was the lullaby, so he continued to hum. “… over the rainbowww” he drawled mindlessly. Summer lowered her head so she could hear the hoarse mumbling “way up highhhh”, his voice a hardly audible whisper.

“DAD?!” she sobbed helplessly, trying to shake her dad out of the static silence. Coughing back bile, Jerry snapped out of his daze. “Summer go and get some of Morty’s pyjamas and get my fleece and car keys.” She nodded rushing out of the room.

“Morty it’s dad, come on, time to shake a leg” he murmured soothingly. The panic was setting in, the lump in his throat wouldn’t subside no matter how hard he swallowed “be a man” he said sternly to himself and gently placed an arm under his comatose son. Placing his head in the crook of his elbow and his limp body pressed against his chest. Dashing downstairs, he collected the blanket by the armchair in the lounge. Summer stood holding the door wide open, unlocking the car for her father she passed him the keys as he lay Morty down carefully in the back seat wrapping the blanket around him, it immediately absorbed the blood.

Summer opened the passenger seat door. “No Summer get in the house” Jerry ordered. She was taken back by the assertiveness in her father’s voice, a tone she had never heard from him before. “No Dad, I’m coming with” she said standing her ground, he frowned wrenching her hand off the car door handle and shoving her towards the front door of the house. “NO, Summer I told you! God damnit do as you’re told. When your mother wakes up she will be alone and have no idea what's going on for fucks sake!" he screamed and her lips quivered as tears began dribbling down her face "You need to be calm and tell her what has happened. I’ll call you when we get to the hospital, but for once just listen to me!” he said sternly but his voice wobbled, he gave her a soft smile pointing towards the front door. Summer nodded, turning around to hug her father, “I’m sorry dad” she whimpered clinging to him and beginning to cry.  Patting her back gently, he hugged her back tightly “I know sweetheart” he said patiently, ending the hug and climbing into the car hurriedly.

Starting the engine he sped towards the hospital, trying to hold back the tears so as not to crass the god damn car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Motivate me and hopefully I will add another chapter soon, I have college and work and I'm lazy enough as it is


	3. Artificial Lighting

Thinking back Jerry started to doubt his decision, should he have called an ambulance? Was he in any fit state to be driving. What if Morty bled out before they reached the ER, nervously biting his lip he turned to see Morty’s motionless body. “We’re going to be okay Morty”, “We’re gonna be okay” he blubbered hysterically.

The bright lights of the hospital glass building were on the horizon, Jerry furiously brushed the tears from his eyes and ran the red light, horns blaring, he didn’t care, he didn’t care. Pulling up onto the curb, not bothering to park, Gerry practically jumped out of the car. Gently scooping his lifeless child in his arms, pressing a desperate kiss on his forehead, kicking the car door closed and hitting the lock. Sprinting to double doors, he wrapped a protective hand under Morty’s head to stop his head from rattling around as his dad ran. Breathlessly reaching the waiting room, Jerry knelt lowering his son to the ground and looking around frantically for some kind of support. “I NEED A DOCTOR!” he shrieked and the nurse at the reception hit the alarms alerting that there was a patient in a life-threatening condition.

Wheezing and spluttering Jerry’s hands were covered in thick coagulated plasma and blood, wiping them on his fleece he choked back the vomit creeping up his throat. Paramedics rushed through the doors wheeling a hospital bed. “Are you dad?” shouted a young-looking woman in a blue gown. Jerry was speechless, she rolled her eyes as four large men gently placed the body on the hospital bed before wheeling him in the direction of the ICU. “Get a hold of yourself dad, you gotta have your head screwed on so we can help” she prodded sternly but the kindness in her voice coaxed Jerry into speaking “Yeah I’m dad” he sniffled running alongside the team of medics.

“Not breathing!” called one of the medics as he hurriedly ripped open the plastic wrapping of an Ambu bag and lodging the long pipe down Morty’s throat and beginning to artificially resuscitate the boy. Thick hands squeezed the bag in a rhythmic fashion forcing the air back into his son's failing lungs.

“Focus on me, dad, okay!” she instructed and he nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat. His son was dead. Morty was dead. “Brilliant, well done Dad! And who’s this? What’s gone on tonight?” she smiled at him squeezing his hand that tightly gripped the smooth corelated metal bars of the hospital bed. Why couldn’t he just stay strong for a couple more minutes he internally begged the tears to dry up.

“This is my Morty, my son Morty, he’s uh, Jesus Christ!” he sobbed “He’s my son, he’s 10, I don’t know what happened, I found him like this –

“When?” she demanded

“Oh ummm… I don’t know” he whispered breathlessly, eyes fixed on the oxygen mask wrapped over his face. A trail of blood dripping along the corridor.

“Come on dad, we need a timescale” As they reached the ICU, another medic cut the bloody fabric clinging to Morty’s torso with large scissors.

“Any pulse?” asked the senior looking doctor, wiry silver hair tied back in a blue cap.

“Pulse is weak rapidly decreasing – not breathing” responded the nurse Stickers were placed around Morty’s nipples and lower abdomen and an IV inserted into his arm pumping glucose into his system.

“Blood type?” the doctor asked Jerry urgency in his tone. His heart sunk, “I don’t know, I don’t know!” he shrieked panicking his fits balled up and he sunk to his knees, the sight of his son just to heart-breaking to bear.

“Get dad out of here” the doctor barked dismissively And the nurse he had been talking to grabbed him by the arm leading him out of the room.

“Come on let’s take a seat, fancy a coffee?” she said calmly, eerily so, how was she so nonchalant she had just seen a 10-year old dying. Jerry looked down at his t-shirt, it was covered in snot, vomit and blood, hot sticky blood.

“Could I, could I – um, is there anything else I could…” he trailed off awkwardly scratching the back of his neck looking down sheepishly at his filthy clothes. “Sure” she grinned. Jerry smiled back, wiping the remainder of his tears on his sleeve and taking a deep breath but almost as soon as he regained his composure - he lost it. Placing his head between his legs he started to hyperventilate. The image of his son laying in his own blood, Summer’s panicked screams – his whole head ached, the nurse came back holding a baggy paper-thin t-shirt. “It’s all I’ve got sorry dad” she shrugged, Jerry looked up to say that it didn’t matter but as soon as he titled his head upwards he vomited, projectile chunks of mash potatoes and chicken, leftovers from dinner all over the floor.

It burnt his mouth, he tried to resist his churning stomach but it only made him eject more. “Woah okay dad, let it out” the nurse said soothingly taking the seat next to him and rubbing his back as he spewed violently, his stomach retching. Jerry started to sob loudly as he continued to throw up everything inside of him until he was retching, dry heaving, bile and spit was all that was coming out, his throat burnt and his lungs were screaming for air as he hiccupped through tears and choked and spluttered on his own vomit. The acidic taste in his mouth was vile and it only made him cry harder. He was so weak. As the sickness subsided, he took deep ragged gasped, and wiped his mouth gingerly. He sat in an uncomfortable silence with the nurse, not daring to look, to see the disgust in her eyes. He began to pull off his sodden tshirt and used it to mop his sweaty brow. Replacing it with the cool gown like fabric of the hospital overalls.

“Want me to go check on him?” she asked Jerry nodded “some water please?” he gasped Bright lights, piercing bright lights. Hot galvanic pain coursing through his body. Trying to draw air into his body he choked at the foreign intruding pipe, which suddenly retracted. He heard cheers. Blinking open his eyes, trying to get them to adjust to the artificial lamps burning into his retinas.

“Morty?” came an unfamiliar voice. He couldn’t respond, everything ached. “Wiggle your toes for yes and clench them for no, okay? Can you hear me Morty?”. He complied by wiggling his toes, wincing slightly. “Good boy, thank you Morty. Do you know where you are?” He clenched his toes twice.

“You’re in the hospital sweet pea” it was a female voice, it was mellow and warm, like his Mom’s voice. Trying to sit up he hissed in pain, and he began seeing stars, a firm hand was placed on his chest.

“Slow down their champ” came a male voice, the same voice began chatting to someone else in the room but his voice was drowned out by the thumping in his head. He grew dizzy and faint, his limited vision blurring. “Increase the morphine flow please Steph, and get some oral oxycodone”. Suddenly Morty felt a sharp twinge in his hand and he whimpered slightly at the sting. The sting was consistent but he couldn't lift his hand. Still unable to open his eyes, he began to struggle against the hand still placed on his chest.

“Morty, my name is Doctor Crosley, we’re going to ask you a couple of questions and then we can give you an IM of promethazine to get you to sleep huh?”

He wiggled his toes weakly.

“Dad says you’re 10 years old Morty? Is that right”

Yes

“Are you in pain right now?”

Yes

“Have you been drinking tonight or are you taking any illicit substances?”

No

“Have you been to hospital for something like this before”

No

“Did you hurt yourself on purpose?”. Morty froze, he didn’t really know how to answer that question and his head hurt too much to think about it. The stinging in his arm dulled but he was starting to feel nauseous, this panicked him and he started to struggle, with no way to communicate with anyone all he could do was whine.

“Hold still” he was told by yet another male voice. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t think, the waves of bilious were looming. He began to thrash violently despite the searing pain in his arms and his head was blindingly agonising but he couldn’t open his eyes either way. Vomit slowly started to crawl up his throat and he tried to get on his side so as not to choke.

“Restrain him! He’s going to tear out his IV!” bellowed the new male’s voice. Cool arms held down his sides and he began sobbing helplessly as he continued writhing against the forces pinning him to the bed. The pain was unbearable and he could feel his heart pulsating tumultuously. His sobs became desperate panicked wines as he felt more hands holding down his twitching legs.

“Easy Morty” came the soft voice of the female medic as he felt a smooth hand running through his sweaty chestnut locks. Still struggling in a blind frantic panic, he felt a sharp pain in his buttocks and the nausea subsided, in its place a dark drowsy cloud engulfed him and everything went still.


	4. A Sister's Burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer has to tell her Mom that her only son had been pronounced dead for over 5 minutes

Summer was sat restlessly by her Mom. Her arms clutching around her knees squeezing her eyes shut to keep any more tears from falling. It was 4am - probably and she was in the pitch black, save for the light from the landing upstairs. How long had she been sat by her mother's side, it must have been hours upon hours, her muscles felt numb but in a dull stinging way, but the real agony was the lump pulsating in her throat. She could hardly move, her breathing was shallow and raspy. Why hadn’t her grandfather been here? He could have fixed Morty up in seconds and then they’d all order pizza and play downbeat or cards or watch interdimensional cable, and everything would be fine. If he hadn’t left in the first place would Morty have even been in that state. She had noticed Morty was quieter, his stutter was worse, but surely that had been it, what signs had she been missing? He was her bother, her only little brother, she should have known intuitively. She should have helped carry his burden, she should have spoken to him when he sat by himself at school, eating alone. She should have stuck up for him all those times her friends had picked on him. 

Had Morty been cutting as she was screaming at him? Was he cutting because she was screaming at him? Would he have been okay if she had just been nice? The evening and early hours of the morning had been spent with these horrible dark thoughts bouncing around in her brain. She was too scared to move

Tossing slightly in her sleep Beth's breath hitched slightly before groaning loudly at the torturous pangs stabbing at her head. It was dark and her fluttering eye lids felt heavy with the weight of her exhaustion. Sighing, Beth stirred wearily and slowly pulled herself up to sit on the couch, swinging her stiff legs off the side of their lounge sofa, accidentally kicking Summer in the back. 

“Mom?” she murmured feebly

“Sweetie? What’s going on? Why are we downstairs? Where's dad?”

“You got drunk” she whispered softly, no malice in her tone at all, just stating the fact. She didn’t blame her Mom at all. She didn't have a better answer to give. She reached out and took one of her mom’s hands in her own and sat beside her on the settee and turning on the lamp besides them. Sighing at how painful the following conversation was going to be Summer took a deep breath.

“Mom I need you to listen, don’t say anything or do anything, just listen” she said in pseudo confidence.

“What’s going on Summer?” she asked sternly, racking her brain for the worst scenario possible and preparing herself for the unspeakable. Had her dad been arrested? Killed? Maybe he had come back and saw the drunken state his daughter was in and left, again. 

“It’s okay Mom.” She said stroking her mom’s hand trying to keep her own from shaking but failing. “Morty’s in the hospital, okay Mom? “. Beth pressed a hand against her open mouth and choked back lagrimas. 

“Dad and I, well Dad yeah um, so, Dad and I found him in the bathroom, he tried to kill himself. Mom?” She barely managed to nod, squeezing her eyes shut to prevent the tears from falling. “Dad took him to the hospital but that was ages ago. He was great actually Mom, I don’t- I don’t know if Morty would be alive right now if it wasn’t for Dad.” She whimpered as she began to cry even harder.

“Oh Sweetie” she mumbled wrapping her daughter in her arms. 

They both heaved great sighs of sadness and regret. “He-He-H-H-He died Mom! He w-w-was dead” she wailed hopelessly her heart aching with the pain. Beth’s heart was in her throat, as she silently wept into her daughter’s hair. She hadn't been there. They sat in the tight grieving embrace, clinging to each-other just in case they let go and the world might fall apart. But Summer’s phone began to vibrate on the floor underneath them and Beth snatched it up and put the receiver to her ear. 

“Jer?” cried Beth desperately

“Hey Sweetie?” the voice of her husband calmed her somewhat

“What are we going to do?” she whimpered holding back tears and clutching Summer’s hand so tight her knuckles were turning white.

“Go to sleep Beth, Morty’s asleep too, they put him to sleep as he wouldn’t calm down poor thing. I’m not going anywhere I’ve got him Beth baby, I’m not leaving our son’s side. If you come down to the hospital, we’re just off the ICU ward in cubicle 8. Come visit in the morning, let Summer stay off school, but for now go to sleep. You don’t need to worry, he’s safe now, and he’s not in any pain anymore, he’s pumped full of those painkiller-y things” 

“Oh Jerry” she sighed, stifling a sob

“I love you baby, and I love our Summer, let her know, tell my girl her dad loves her okay? We can never let our children believe for a second we don’t love them, not like Rick, you don’t want them to look at us the way I look at Rick, do you? Because he lets his kids down. We aren’t like that Beth, we are NOT. Okay Beth, I love you, I always have. Now come on, you take Summer up to our bed and both of you go to sleep, okay? I’ll see you soon, everything is going to be okay”  
Beth sniffled, taken back by the rationality and certainty in Jerry’s voice, it was unlike him but so very like him all at the same time.

“I will. Jerry? I just- I can’t, I love you so much and you’re right you have always been right, okay I’m sorry -I love you too, I love you so much.” She whispered before hanging up the call and clutching it to her chest, using her other hand to brush the hair out of Summer's pink flustered face in a soothing manner. 

Making there way up stairs, neither could bring themselves to change and collapsed in a heap of tangled limbs on Beth's bed, both sniffling mournfully. Beth wrapped her arms around her daughter, holding her close so she couldn't lose her. Before long, the two Smith girls found themselves clinging to each-other desperately wrapped in the sanctity of the duvet, the warmth of each other’s bodies was both foreign and comforting. Summer drifted off to sleep shortly afterwards. Beth was glad that Summer was able to escape the tormenting memories of tonight’s events even if it was just for a few hours. Beth had both arms around Summer’s sleeping form, her chin resting on top of Summer’s soft auburn hair. The throbbing pain in her skull had become just a dull ache, providing mild discomfort. She thought of her son, her boy, both the emotional pain to drive him to this state and the physical pain that must be mind numbing and she felt selfish for feeling sorry for herself. She tried shaking away the horrible images of her son lying motionless on a hospital bed, electrodes and catheters streaming antibiotics and painkillers into his fragile system, but it was difficult. The thought of seeing her in that state filled her with dread. However the warmth of her bed and gloomily lit room began to lull her into a drowsy haze. She snuggled closer; trying to close her eyes but the picture of her son lying unconscious in the bathroom haunted her. He was bleeding to death whilst she had been pass out drunk on the floor, on a Tuesday freaking night! If it weren’t for her blistering headache then she could go for another glass of wine or maybe raid Rick’s liquor cabinet for something stronger, something to end the heaviness in her chest. Yawning slightly she managed to slowly drift into a dreamless slumber, arms still holding Summer to her chest. 

Soft beams of early morning light began to creep through the silk curtains of the bedroom, the two sleeping figures casting a peaceful shadow across the chest of drawers opposite them. As the sun's rays began to disturb her, Beth yawned hazily, puzzled for a second as to why Summer was in her bed, but she shrugged it off and moved closer, too tired to think she relished the sweetness of the situation and nuzzled into her pillow lazily. The warmth radiating from her teen daughter's body and the knowledge that she didn't have work today was just perfect. They dosed in a blissful silence as the light began to peep through. All of a sudden, a thunderous crash shook the house violently, Beth jumped to her feet, a startled Summer rubbed her eyes dolefully. It had come from the garage...

Rick.


	5. Bitter Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The toxicity of the relationships within the Smith family start to emerge and new alliances form

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had my birthday weekend and had no time to update, sorry, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it x

The artificial glow of the lamp, lit the sterile room. The silence only broken by a shrill beep consistently sounding in time to Morty’s weak heartbeat. He had been out for almost 8 hours now, Steph had promised that between 6-8 hours Morty would be able to wake up from his promethazine induced sleep, so he waited patiently. Jerry released Morty’s limp fingers from his own to rub his sweaty palms on his jeans for the millionth time. He was careful to reunite their hands so as not to disturb the cannula in his hand, whilst the one in his elbow streamed precious O negative blood straight into his veins. Blood which had been extracted from Jerry’s own veins only hours ago. Every 15 minutes a cheery woman with vibrant purple hair would check Morty’s temperature and examine the sharp jagged stitches that zig zagged across his swollen forearms, just to ensure everything was going smoothly and his body was accepting the plasma. She had brought Jerry a watery looking coffee an hour ago, but it had remained untouched on the desk behind them. He didn’t need the caffeine to stay awake he was rigid, alert; he couldn’t keep his eyes off Morty, the thought of his heart stopping again fought off any thoughts of going to sleep.

There was a gentle knock at the door startling Jerry as the violet haired medic appeared with the elder surgeon Doctor Crosley who had taken Morty’s case and had been with them throughout the entire night. His hands had probably been washed several hundred times since he had sewn the stitches binding Morty’s flesh together, but Jerry could swear his fingertips were still dripping in his son’s blood. He was a cold, matter-of-factly gentleman, which had previously been unnerving however Jerry had warmed to the man. The devotion and selflessness he had shown to his patient through-out the night was a clear sign of his superior intelligence – it highlighted how lucky he was to have such a clever wife such as his own. Jerry stood at the entrance attentively.

“Right Mr. Smith I’m off home, Leanne will take good care of you both. The transfusion will be completed by… he consulted the spirals of scribbled notes on the chipped wooden clipboard he had been carrying. “9:20” he confirmed, stepping past Gerry to hold the pre-teens weak forearms, running a hand over the unsightly mass of scars and stitches eliciting a drowsy groan from the patient. “Mph, he’s recovering steadily, that’s what we like to see, he’ll probably be awake for the remainder of the transfusion, just make sure he’s still and doesn’t move about too much, if he needs to urinate we can have a male nurse facilitate that. That’s about it, do you have any questions before I go?” he asked pushing his oval glasses further up his nose.

“Can he have visitors?” Jerry inquired, a hint of desperation in his tone “I-I just mean my wife and daughter would love to see him, they’re so worried” he added in defensively.

Doctor Crosley shrugged apathetically, giving a consulting look to Leanne who nodded in agreement “Don’t see why not, unless they’re going to cause emotional distress or discomfort? Maybe ask Morty first what he wants, I bet Mom is eager to see him but make sure he’s okay with it first” he advised

Jerry nodded in understanding, “Thank you, Doc” he said earnestly, the wrinkled mouth turned upwards to a tort smile, he gave a mock salute and walked back through the door.

“Do you want to take off for a bit Jerry? I’ve gotta write a detailed physical report after I check him over, total snore fest if you ask me, but hey, it’s gotta be done, go get yourself some breakfast” she suggested. Jerry weighed it up internally, not really wishing to leave Morty alone. “Hospital food never amounts to much but the bakers across the road, god! The pastries are too die for” she giggled patting her round belly heartily.

Jerry smiled politely but shook his head, “I want to be here when he wakes up, he’s a bit shy”, she hummed in agreement.

“Totally understand dad, you can keep me company” Gently peeling back, the sheet and blankets covering Morty’s sleeping form, she stretched the tight medical gloves over her chubby little hands. Starting with his feet, she lifted the left leg and began prodding and massaging the pale skin. Her hands reached the left thigh and her face dropped slightly, before she shrugged and wandered out the room briefly. Jerry screwed his face up in complete confusion. What the fuck? He thought to himself. Nervously checking the hallway to make sure he was still alone, he crept over to Morty’s bed and took a look at the thigh Leanna had been poking, a thick purple bump was swelling on the boy’s leg. “It’s alright dad!” came the cheery voice from behind him, holding a large syringe with a thick dangerous looking needle, a bead of fluid rolling down the tip. She pulled back Morty’s gown revealing his malnourished figure, his ribs poking out from under his skin painfully. She quickly felt around his abdomen before plunging the enormous looking contraption into his son’s stomach and slowly pushing down as the cerulean liquid disappeared into the bloodstream. Jerry gave the medic a look mixed with concern and irritation.

“It’s a DVT” she stated casually pointing to the already smaller looking bulge on his son’s outer thigh, he bit his lip thoughtfully, he didn’t really understand all this medical terminology. Noticing the furrowed eyebrows on his face, Leanne chuckled “A Deep Vein Thrombosis, really common, it’s a blood clot and I gave him a shot of enoxaparin sodium it’s a sweet drug! It basically ensures that your blood flow is nice and even and clean, and it prevents the risk of anymore nasty clots – they hurt like a bitch. He’s been in the same position for over 13 hours with limited movement and he’s lost and gained blood in a short period of time, I’d be more worried if it didn’t happen” she added comfortingly, and Jerry nodded in understanding. All of the nurses had been so supportive, but he felt he could trust Morty with Leanne especially but just for a few minutes, so he could go pee. Gesturing to the door Jerry politely asked for her to watch Morty whilst he went to relieve himself, she laughed at him dismissively and he hurriedly jogged to the loo.

As he stepped into the main corridor, all thoughts of using the bathroom left him as he notices Beth standing in the hallway, her arms firmly crossed across her chest and her lips red and puffy, she’d been biting it. She was so beautiful, even with the purple bags drooping under her swollen teary eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to call out to her in case he was just imagining her, her eyes widened in excitement when she spotted him.

“JERRY!” she shrieked running to him, arms spread to embrace him and crushing him with a desperate but loving kiss, eyebrows raised in surprise, his eyes wide but he kissed her back and let his eyes flutter shut, each exhaling into the other’s mouth in relief. As Beth pulled away, Jerry opened his eyes to see his father-in-law standing sullenly a few feet behind, his hands stuffed in his pockets, a green stain on his snagged coat looking distinctly like vomit and the stench of cheap alcohol on his breath. Jerry grabbed his daughter by her wrist protectively and pulled her behind him and wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist almost as if he could shield them from Rick’s chaotic being that threatened to engulf them all in a perpetual state of misery.

“What the fuck do you think you are here?” he snarled, his entire stance oozed hostility. Beth put a soothing hand on his chest to calm him, but for once she didn’t chastise him for confronting Rick and his heart fluttered somewhat, but not enough for his futile anger to simmer. The weary looking septuagenarian glared at Jerry but didn’t have a response, dipping his free hand into his pockets for his flask he took a swig of the cheap whiskey he had bought for times like this. It tasted like ass but soon he’d be too inebriated to care. Jerry refused to break eye contact, he would not show any weakness, not anymore and to his surprise Rick broke off the gaze, he was shuffling awkwardly, switching the distribution of his weight from foot to foot.

“Dad’s moving out” Beth uttered softly to her husband and he nodded, his teeth gritted together in complete fury. How dare Rick be here, for all intents and purposes he was not a part of the Smith family. The tension in the brightly lit corridor could be cut with a knife, even the distant chattering of the nurses at their station seemed to die down. Rick scratched behind his head, eye glued to the floor. Jerry holding his girls back protectively as if Rick was a predator about to pounce, yet he was stood looking dejected, some-what sober and out of place.

Awkwardly coughing, Summer broke the stand-off, “I let him come, Morty will want to see him” Jerry took a deep breath, it was not his decision to make whether to let him visit Morty or not. Morty would not respect his dad making choices for him. Beth smiled at her daughter’s confidence, and drew her into the embrace. Jerry wrapped strong arms around his girls and pressed a kiss into his daughter’s hair, relishing in the physical affection from his wife and daughter that he had been craving like nicotine for so long. Rick was still stood gingerly in the hallway, not knowing where to look.

Leanne popped her head around the cubicle and beckoned Jerry and he nodded. “Stay here girls, he’s waking up, I’ll come get you the second you’re allowed in, I promise”, giving Rick a final leer, he rushed back inside to see his son. He threw himself into the seat by Morty’s bed. He hadn’t woken up just yet but he was stirring, his face screwed with discomfort and restlessness. Jerry grasped his hand, smiling down brightly, willing his son to open his eyes. Morty began to toss, murmuring drowsily. “Hey Bud, you okay?” he urged, gripping a little tighter to the frail hand. His whines increasing in volume until he shook himself a wake in blind panic, glancing around the room in fright, trying to calculate where he was. “Morning sweetie” Jerry cooed, trying to hold back tears of relief.

“Dad...?” he whimpered his voice weak and filled with anxiety, you could hear the lump in his throat already. Jerry took his other hand and wrapped it around both their hands and squeezed gently enough not the poke the cannula into his vein but tightly enough to reassure his son. “Why am I here?” his voice breaking as he began to sob, wrenching his hands free to push them into his eyes.

“You’re okay Champ, you’re okay” Jerry offered, ruffling his hair and removing Morty’s hands from his face to hold them again. His eyes were puffy and red and tears were dribbling down his face sending pangs straight to Jerry’s heart. “You had an accident but you’re okay, you’re okay now aren’t you? Huh?” he began to explain, choking back the urge to join his tearful son, stroking his hair soothingly and smiling weakly.

“I am?”

“Yeah sweetheart, you’re okay” he reaffirmed, wrapping the blanket back over Morty to hide his stitches and scars, it would only panic him. Morty sniffed, nodding his head, his dad wouldn’t lie to him. Jerry locked eye contact and smiled reassuringly and Morty gave back a weak grin before laying his head back on the plastic pillows that crinkled under the weight of his heavy head. Jerry traced soothing circles into Morty’s hand that clung to his with a certain feeling of complete love and trust. “Mom and Summer are here; shall I go get them? You want to see them right? They’ve missed you lots” Jerry encouraged and Morty sighed nodding.

He went to stand up but Morty held his hand even tighter

“Don’t” he whispered, “Don’t leave please” he repeated his voice sore. Jerry patted the hand softly, internally cheering that his son was finally beginning to see him as a real father figure.

“I’ll be two minutes champ, okay?” but Morty shook his head, tears threatening to burst from his soul. Jerry tried to give an earnest laugh but just choked, regaining composure he laughed “I’m not even leaving the room, just popping my head round the door to get your Mom and Sum, yeah?”, Morty bit his lip and shut his eyes, the word okay falling from his mouth in a silent whisper. Jerry practically jumped up from his seat.

Stepping out into the corridor he jogged over to the line of plastic chairs where his family were sitting in a state of anxiety, nerves and patience.“Beth, Summer he’s awake and he wants to see you” he beamed gleefully, relief rushed to the trios faces as they stood up eagerly.

But as Rick tried to enter the room, Jerry gave him a forceful shove in the chest and the slightly intoxicated elder teetered before regaining his balance. “Not you.” Jerry spat in Rick’s direction disgustedly. Rick paused in fury and disbelief, glaring daggers at his son-in-law, he considered tearing off his jacket and beating the sack of shit in front of him to a bloody pulp but drawing a deep breath he lowered himself back into the seat patiently. He couldn’t bear another standoff, he wouldn’t win, not now, not when his own daughter practically hated him, and he couldn’t blame her. If it had got to the point where even Beth’s loyalty was wavering, he had fucked-up. Jerry smirked almost triumphantly making Rick’s blood boil, he was seething, but causing a scene wouldn’t help anyone. Let the weasel feel like a man for once he thought to himself bitterly. The only reason he was here was because… he internally trailed off. In fact, why was he here? Beth had cried, screamed and slapped him several times in her adult years. He didn’t care, that wouldn’t make him sit in this crummy hallway. It wasn’t obligation and it wasn’t because he cared about the little shit and his pathetic childish problems. It wasn’t because Beth made him – nobody in the entire multi-verse could make him, Rick Sanchez do a single thing he didn’t want to do. He didn’t have time for this crap. He began to pace down the hall in distress, racking his brain for a decent explanation as to why he was bothering to make the effort.

How dare Jerry make him wait outside like he wasn’t the family member closest to Morty. Like Jerry even knew his son. He came home from his dead-beat job, grocery assistant or fucking janitor or something and would sit and moan about how unfair his life was and then complain to Morty about how Beth never gave him enough money until the kid felt bad enough, he’d hand his father $20. Jerry didn’t know Morty. The little pissworm didn’t know a thing about him. It wasn’t like he cared but Jerry’s newfound assertiveness just pissed him right off. He could hardly believe he’d listened to him. He had a good mind to storm right in and kick Jerry out. But in all honesty, he was grateful for the extra time to prepare what he was actually going to say to his grandson, if anything. He started to bite on his nails anxiously as the minutes went by painstakingly slow. By now he had finished the sweet whiskey, the last burning swig had left a warm spiced aftertaste in his mouth, yet it was the bitterness that was resonating within him, fuelling the toxicity of his darkened thoughts.

It had been little over half an hour since Beth and Summer had been invited into the hospital cubicle and Rick was starting to lose patience. Heaving himself out of the plastic chair he wobbled a little, partly due to the alcohol and partly due to the nerves. Jesus Christ, he thought to himself as he choked down vomit, he hadn’t even had a full flask and he could feel himself repressing the urge not to hurl all over his shoes. Pressing a hand against the wall decorated in a plethora of pastel coloured butterflies, he tried to keep himself steady and he heaved, sucking deep, long breaths as the nausea rushed over him.

Just as he felt the bile creeping up his oesophagus he locked eyes with his daughter. “I’m f-ouerrp fucking hell” wiping the puke off his chin, “I’m fine” he declared. Beth’s face was a contortion of disgust and anger.

“Dad” she sighed firmly seating him in a chair, keeping him at arms-length so as to remove the opportunity of his vomit getting on her shirt. His eyes were unable to look straight ahead, he groaned smacking a hand to his head and letting his eyes roll back into his skull. “You couldn’t just be there for Morty, nothing means anything to you” she spat but there was a tone of sadness in her voice, it sounded like regret, but he couldn’t be sure, the alcohol had hit him like a bullet train.

“Am I allow-eourrrp, fuck me, c-c-can I see him then?” he muttered, his eyes still squeezed shut in a naïve hope it would stop the world from spinning. He felt Beth’s irritation from across the room.

She was clearly fed up. “He’s tired.” She stated matter of factly and he sighed, opening his eyes to have the glaring beams of artificial light blind him slightly but squinted up at his daughter anyway, determined to show her that he was serious.

“L-l-look, look, Beth, Sweetie, y-y-you, bleuuurp you know me, I’ll make e-e-everythbluerp- everything better, you see, lemme talk to m-m-my, lemme talk to Morty.”

With tears in her eyes she shook her head but the words “Okay dad” escaped her lips despite her better judgement.


End file.
